


Indulgence

by emeraldorchids



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Het, Heterosexual Sex, OOC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 06:05:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2417735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldorchids/pseuds/emeraldorchids
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stephen shows up at the Runway benefit and whisks Miranda away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Indulgence

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how many warnings I can include. This is a Miranda/Stephen story. It's het sex. It's way out of canon for this fandom. Did I mention it's het sex? If you don't like Stephen or it grosses you out or whatever, I suggest you neither read nor review. There are plenty of Stephen-bashing Mirandy (f/f) fics out there, so leave this one alone. 
> 
> Sometimes, you just have to write a story to get it out of your head for good.

 

“Ambassador Franklin,” Andrea whispered, “and that’s Rebecca, the woman he left his wife for.” She stepped away from the editor and looked over at Emily, who shrugged and mouthed “thank you.”

“Ah, Ambassador,” Miranda said, “and Rebecca, so lovely to see you tonight.”

“You can probably go,” Emily said. “I can take it from here. Miranda will be leaving soon anyway.”

“You sure?” Andrea asked. She was anxious to get home that night because it was her boyfriend’s birthday and their friends were throwing him a little party at one of their favorite bars. 

“Yes, go,” Emily said. 

Andrea turned to leave, but froze when she heard a booming voice. 

“Hey! When do we eat?”

She and Emily both turned around and saw Stephen, Miranda’s husband, crossing the room. Miranda immediately went over to meet him, clearly attempting to control the situation and keep him as far away from her colleagues as possible. Unfortunately. Irv Ravitz happened to be right on her heels. 

“Darling, there you are,” she said with a smile, slipping her arm around him. 

“It’s been a rotten evening,” Stephen said. All other conversations seemed to taper off and Stephen’s voice rang through the hall. Even from far, it was clear he was intoxicated. “People out front didn’t even recognize me. You know, one of them called me ‘Mr. Priestly,’ and now the damn bartender won’t even serve me!” he bellowed. 

“Darling, please,” Miranda said. Andrea could see that the editor was frantically trying to escort him out of the main ballroom. 

Stephen suddenly turned to Irv. “Why don’t you get me another drink? They’d have to listen to you, wouldn’t they, little guy?” He chuckled as Miranda did her best to hide her mortified expression. 

“Stephen, please,” she begged, stepping between her husband and her employer, hoping to diffuse the situation. 

Everyone watched as Irv’s face reddened. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Ravitz?” Andrea said, stepping forward and gently taking Irv by the elbow, steering him in the opposite direction. “I have just been dying to ask if it’s true that John Cheever used to ghostwrite…”

Miranda sighed in relief and laid her head against Stephen’s shoulder. “Dance with me,” she whispered, tightening her arms around him. As they spun around the dance floor, her eyes met Andrea’s and she silently thanked her for her interference. 

She led him to the far back of the ballroom and out of the spotlight just as Stephen began pawing at her. Miranda tried pushing his hands away without drawing attention, and when Stephen finally stepped back, she leaned against the wall, catching her breath and smoothing out her dress. 

All of a sudden, Stephen’s arms were around her thighs and he was carrying her over his shoulder. She didn’t want to scream and draw attention to herself, so she could only whisper “Put me down!” and pound her hands on his back. 

“Where are you taking me?” she asked when they stepped into an elevator. 

“Our suite,” he said, tightening his grip on her thighs. They exited the elevator and he quickly whisked her into the suite, unceremoniously throwing her onto the bed. 

Miranda tried to crawl away, but he climbed onto the bed after her, hovering over her on all fours. 

“Please, baby,” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. “Indulge me in this one.”

Miranda nodded in consent and turned her head, giving him better access to that spot behind her ear he loved to nibble. His hands reached around to the side of her and he quickly unzipped the dress, tugging it down just enough so he could cup her breasts and suck on her hardened nipples. 

“So help me, Stephen Tomlinson,” she said, “if there are any photos of your hand on my ass from the benefit tonight, we are through.”

“Ohh,” he moaned, releasing her breasts and trailing his hot tongue across her chest and neck. “You know I love when you threaten me like that—makes my dick so fucking hard,” he hissed as he lowered himself onto her petite frame. 

Miranda quietly moaned as she felt his hardness against her thigh. She softly pressed him away. “Wait, wait—I have to get this dress off. It’s a— _ahhh_ —one-of-a-kind,” she moaned. 

Stephen stood and held his hand out, helping his wife from the bed. He slipped the dress over her head and laid it on the chair in the corner. “Ohhh fuck,” he moaned.

Miranda was standing at the foot of the bed with her hands on her hips. She was wearing a black corset, black lace garter belt, thigh-high fishnets, and platform heels. 

He quickly pulled his shirt out of his pants and untied his cummerbund. As he approached the bed, Miranda reached for the waistband of his pants and pulled him closer, carefully unzipping the pants and letting them fall to the floor before giving him a nudge backwards towards the bed. 

She walked up between his legs and he spread his knees to make room for her. She slowly unbuttoned his shirt, careful to place his cuff links on the dresser so they wouldn’t get lost. Once he was down to his cotton t-shirt and boxers, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his mouth, moaning into the kiss as she felt his dick straining against his shorts. 

She stepped back, and he quickly pulled his undershirt over his head. Her perfectly manicured fingertips skimmed the soft elastic of his silk boxers, and he groaned as his dick began to throb. Looping her fingers in the waistband, she slid the boxers down his legs as he lifted his hips off the bed. She smiled when she saw he had already kicked off his socks. 

“Ahhh, fuck!” he cried as she gently stroked his shaft. “Fuck, no—I’m too—I’m too close,” he groaned. 

Miranda smiled and stood, climbing onto his lap and placing one knee on the bed on either side of him. “Let’s slow this down, huh?” she purred, pressing a kiss to his neck and dragging her lower lip along his jaw. With his hardness pressing against her abdomen, she felt a flood of moisture between her legs. Her hips began an involuntary dance against his, and he quickly turned and pressed her against the bed. 

“Ohh, Christ, Miranda,” he said as he lowered himself and pressed a soft kiss to the inside of her thigh. She mewled and moaned as he dipped lower, tasting her juices and dragging his tongue across her slick folds. 

“Now. Stephen, now,” she panted. She opened her legs wide and he carefully guided his shaft into her core, their eyes locked on one another. Miranda adjusted her hips, allowing him to sink deeper inside. She knew she would be sore in the morning—in all the times she could remember, he had never been this well-endowed. 

It crossed her mind that maybe she should have made him use a condom, but once he began sliding out and thrusting, the only thing she could think about was holding on for dear life. 

With the comforter balled tightly in her fists, a primal cry escaped her lips. She had never heard herself make such a sound, nor could she repeat it if asked. 

Some time later, she opened her eyes and saw her husband panting on the bed next to her. She leaned over and captured his lips, humming as she tasted herself on his tongue. “Honey, that was incredible,” she purred, sinking back into the pillows as she gently traced circles on his chest. 

“It was,” he said, nodding in that self-important way of his. 

“Oh, shut up!” Miranda said, playfully slapping his arm. “I did all the work.”

“Mmm, looks like you’ve got more work to do,” he said. 

Her eyes followed his gaze down his body, where his dick was pointing straight up to the heavens. 

Stephen’s fingers reached for Miranda’s garter belt, gently unfastening the clips before sliding it down her legs and flinging it across the room. He slowly peeled her stockings off until they, too, were somewhere on the floor. Kneeling over her, he began unfastening the hook-and-eye closures on her corset one by one, starting from the top. 

Miranda blushed. As eager as she was a sexual partner, she was uncomfortable with her own body as an object of desire. Closing her eyes and biting her lip, she brought her hands up to cover her exposed skin. 

“Hey,” Stephen whispered, leaving the last two hooks fastened. He softly took her wrist and kissed the back of her hand. “If you’re uncomfortable, you can leave it on,” he said, “but I hope you let me take it off. I promise to be gentle.”

Her shoulders relaxed and she slowly moved her arms away.

“You’re so beautiful, Miranda,” he whispered as he trailed kisses down her torso. After undoing the last two hooks, he peeled the garment away and slid his hands up and down her sides. 

She arched into his touch, and once again found herself flooded with moisture as she felt his hard dick pressing against her belly. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she dug her nails into his shoulders as he once again slid inside her. 

“Aaaghh!” he grunted, mindlessly pounding against her core, deeper and deeper. 

She was wild with arousal as she felt his hot come filling her up. Pinching her own nipple, she drove herself over the edge. 

As his thrusts slowed to a stop, Stephen turned to his side and pulled her tightly against his chest. “Did I mention how incredibly sexy you are?” he said, kissing her forehead. 

“I’m exhausted,” she said, sighing. “I’m going to go take a quick shower.”

“May I join you?” he asked. 

Miranda pursed her lips and exhaled sharply through her nose. “Fine, but we are _showering_ , remember!” she warned, shaking a finger playfully in his direction. 

As she stood and walked into the bathroom, she couldn’t help but feel the tightness between her legs—whether it was caused by overuse or lack of use, she had yet to determine. While Stephen was turning on the shower, she grabbed a few makeup removing towelettes from her bag to clean her face. 

“Ah, much better,” he said, taking her hand as she joined him in the spacious shower. 

“Huh?”

He hugged her close and gently stroked her cheek. “You—without all that makeup,” he said, kissing her softly. They took turns washing each other off, and when they stepped out, Miranda towel-dried her hair, then slipped on a short silk robe while Stephen tied the towel around his waist. 

“Give me a minute to take out my contacts and brush my teeth,” she said, shooing him out of the bathroom. Once she was finished, Stephen went to brush his teeth while Miranda turned down the sheets on the bed. 

“Oh god, that’s so sexy,” Stephen said as he approached her from behind. She was bent over the bed, her short robe just barely covering her behind. He slowly pressed himself against her as his thumbs caressed her hips. 

“What are you—ooh!” she gasped as his index finger traced her puckered hole. She turned around and glared at him, her tired eyes as menacing as ever. “Honey, I hate to break it to you, but I’m not twenty-two. I haven’t been for three decades,” she said as she slipped off the robe and climbed between the sheets. 

She took off her glasses and set them on the nightstand, along with her watch and her earrings. “What has gotten into you today, anyway?”

Stephen turned out the light and joined her in bed. Miranda repeated her question. “Just incredibly turned on by my beautiful wife,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. 

“Well, I can’t disagree with that. But honey, next time you want to steal me away for an evening, just whisper something in my ear, okay?”

He chuckled. “Oh, you know I’ve been wanting to put Irv Ravitz in his place for ages! It was all in fun.”

“Yes, thanks to my aspiring journalist of an assistant who distracted him by actually making conversation with him—over god knows what,” Miranda said. “Anyway, the point is…you don’t have to throw me over your shoulder and carry me out.”

“Okay, and you don’t have to push me away from your colleagues. With the exception of Irv, you know I would never do anything to embarrass you,” he said. 

“You know, let’s not talk about this,” Miranda said. “Back to what you were saying before—something about being turned on? I think the words ‘incredibly’ and ‘beautiful’ were in there somewhere?” she said as she nuzzled his neck. 

“Mmm,” he said, tilting his head to give her more space. “I could get used to this.”

"Yeah, I bet you could," she said.

 

_Sfarsit._

**Author's Note:**

> There. See? Not the end of the world. I promise I still think Stephen is an asshole. xox


End file.
